


draw my sword

by Shoulder_Devil



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Gen, Innuendo, M/M, Suggestive Situations, points to butterfly 'is this pre-slash?'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-29 21:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18301994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoulder_Devil/pseuds/Shoulder_Devil
Summary: “I don’t know why you’re so upset, Grizzop,” Wilde’s voice floats in from behind him. “You’re the one who keeps insisting I get more sleep.”Grizzop is tired. He is tired and sore and increasingly annoyed. A night spent bound back to back with Oscar Wilde hasn’t improved his mood.





	draw my sword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butterflymind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflymind/gifts).



“I don’t understand why you’re so upset, Grizzop.” Wilde’s mater of fact tone floats in from behind him. “You’re the one who keeps insisting I get more sleep.”

Grizzop is tired.

He is tired and sore and well past annoyed. A night spent in a dark room bound back to back with Oscar Wilde isn't his idea of a relaxing evening. Grizzop sighs and shifts against the ropes holding them together and attempts to get more comfortable-- well, less uncomfortable. His shoulders protest the movement but some circulation returns to his hands. Hooray for small victories. His he flexes his fingers to work out the pins and needles but stops when he accidentally brushes against Wilde’s skin and pulls away.

“Not when you’re supposed to be on watch,” he grumbles eventually.

Wilde shrugs lazily against Grizzop’s back, “You’ve never complained before.”

He cranes his neck, trying to catch Wilde out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean, ‘before?’ Are you telling me that you haven’t kept a single watch _this whole time!?”_  

“You said not to keep a fire burning overnig--”

“Fire gives away your position for miles. Also, it ruins your night vision.”

“Says the goblin who has no trouble seeing in total darkness,” Wilde snarks. “If fire is off the table and I’m stuck wearing these,” Wilde rattles the anti-magic cuffs still secured around his ankle. “I can’t make my own light."

"Don't you have a lantern or something?"

"I've never needed one before." An air of haughtiness Grizzop has always associated with wizards laced into Wilde's voice. "I’ll have you know I kept watch for at least a full hour each night before nodding off.”

It's easy enough to forget not everyone else can see in the dark like he can. Grizzop's ears fall slightly forward and he chews on his bottom lip, he's never kept a lantern in his pack either. Never needed one. He realizes just how much magic Wilde must use on a day to day basis, how limiting and frankly humiliating it has to be to have it cut off, even to save his life. Without access to magic there are probably all kinds of things he might not have realized he would need. Thinking about it, ia lantern is not something he’s ever seen Hamid use, not when Dancing Lights is a hand wave away.

This was supposed to be simple. Escort Wilde to meet his contact, get the information, and get back to the safe house outside of Damascus. Two days travel on foot, maybe three if the weather turned on them. Nice and easy. Too bad nothing is ever simple with Wilde involved. Their route kept them far enough from main roads and prying eyes that it shouldn’t have mattered if Wilde actually kept his watch. At least it hadn't mattered on the way _there_. The first night of their trip home they get ambushed?  His contact must have sold them out, had them followed. Either that or the two of them are _exceedingly_ unlucky. Grizzop isn't sure which was more likely.

At least whoever attacked them want them alive. That has to count for something. 

Wilde sighs theatrically and lets his head fall back against Grizzop's shoulder. “You’re a paladin of Artemis, aren’t you supposed to be prepared for everything?”

“It’s hard to be prepared to wake up with a knife to your throat, surrounded, and outnumbered.”

“I don’t know, sounds like lovely night out to me.”

“And how’s that going for you so far?” Grizzop strains against the ropes binding them together to illustrate his point.

“I usually prefer silk rope myself but the night is young,” Wilde purrs.

“It’s not night, it’s morning! The sun came up hours ago.”

“Did it?” He looks around the dark room, pausing to rub his recently shorn scalp against the top of Grizzop’s skull. “It’s hard to tell without windows. Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.”

“Sure. Fun.” Grizzop does his best to pull away as Wilde’s stubble continues to tickle against his skin. “What _are_ you doing?”

“Just scratching an itch. I prefer my usual flowing tresses to the bald look I’m sporting - no offense - but, alas, I am currently bound not only to you, dear Grizzop,” he shakes the cuffs, “but also the laws of nature.”

Grizzop flicks an ear in annoyance at Wilde. “Too bad. If it wasn’t for those, they might have gagged you and given me some peace and quiet."

“In that case I’ll have to let my fingers do the talking.” Wilde begins to walk his fingers deliberately along Grizzop’s lower back.

“It’s bad enough to be stuck next to you, the least you could do is keep your hands to yourself.”

“I’m _terribly_ sorry for the inconvenience. I need some leverage. Would you prefer I not try and free myself? "

“We’ve tried that, all you’re going to do is give yourself a nasty case of rope burn if you keep on wriggling like that.” Grizzop jumps slightly as wandering hands find a sensitive spot above his hip.

Wilde chuckles, “ticklish without all that armor are we? I’ll have to remember that for later.”

Grizzop takes a steadying breath and forces himself to relax. They’ve been pushing each other’s buttons for a while now and it’s not helping the situation. He just needs to ignore Wilde's teasing long enough for him to get bored with the attempt to get a rise out of him.

The calm doesn’t last long. Wilde’s continued prodding draws a startled yelp from Grizzop. _“Would you stop that!?”_

“Not,” Wilde grunts, “until I’ve reached it.”

“Reached what? The end of my patience? Because I think you've found it.”

“No, my knife.”

That surprises him. “They took everything even remotely capable of being used as a tool or weapon. How do you still have a knife of all things?”

Wilde stops straining long enough to flash a smile. “Must be my irresistible charm.”

“Didn’t stop them from throwing us in here.”

“I said irresistible, not infinite.”

Grizzop's voice goes flat. “You flirted with him until he got uncomfortable enough to stop searching you.” 

“Where’s the fun in a strip search without a little striptease?”

“Oh, gods,” Grizzop rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you weren’t happy to see him, that’s actually a dagger in your pocket.”

“Why couldn’t it be both?”

“And you waited until now to say something?”

“I wanted to wait for daylight. You would have insisted I used it hours ago."

"Yes, I absolutely would have."

"We have a better shot of getting out of here without stumbling over the terrain or into some trap if I can actually see where I’m going.”

“And a better chance of them seeing us escape and catching us or killing us.”

“They found us easily enough in the dark.”

“Only because you were-- You know what? Fine. Fine, I’m done arguing. Get the knife and let’s get on with it.”

“As cute as you are when you’re angry--”

“Shut it.”

“I can’t reach,” Wilde admits.

“What?” he deadpans.

“You’re going to need to--”

“No.”

Wilde drops his voice seductively, "draw my sword.”   
  
“I'd really rather not.”

“Then we sit here until you come up with a better plan.” Wilde pauses for a few beats before continuing. “Do you? Have a better plan? Grizzop?”

Grizzop presses his lips together and says nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Wilde says breezily. “You put your nimble fingers to work and I’ll lie back and think of the Meritocracy.”

"With a sigh, Grizzop begins to squirm his way closer to Wilde and reaches behind him. “Where is it then?”

“On the left,” Wilde directs. “No the other--”

“That _is_ the left.”

“No, my left-- a little farther in. No, back the other way.”

“Well which is it!?” Grizzop huffs out a frustrated breath and stretches his fingers as best he can into Wilde’s pocket. “I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s because the knife isn’t in my pocket.”

“Oh.”

Wilde strains against the bindings to shift his hips close enough for Grizzop to reach. “This is the most difficulty I’ve had getting--” he hisses as the ropes pinch the inside of his wrists, “getting someone’s hands down my pants in a long time.”

“What about your new strip search buddy?”

“Oh, him. I must be losing my touch,” Wilde sighs wistfully. “Speaking of touch, you have surprisingly gentle hands, I wasn’t expecting that from an archer.”

Grizzop ignores him to focus on his fingertips searching for Wilde’s hidden knife. “I swear, if this was some kind of joke--”

“You’re almost there, just a little lower.”

“I feel the tip but I can’t… you’re going to need to shift back.”

“Right, like this?”

“Almost… just a bit more.” Grizzop manages to trap the handle between two fingers and ease it toward him. “I think I’ve got it. Just… hold still until I pull it out.”

“That’s my line,” says Wilde cheekily.

The knife slips free of its hiding place and slides into his palm. “Got it. And I swear, if you make me drop this. I _will_ find you a gag.”

“Promise?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my roommate for all his help. I wasn't able to work his suggestion into the story so I'll leave it here for you to enjoy: 
> 
> 999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999*****************************++++


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